
Book .Ud^WiLS 




DESCRIPTIVE POEM 



OF THE 



CALAMITY AT LAWRENC 



J. 



JANUAET 10, 1860. 




^,o 






A 



DESCRIPTIVE POEM ^1£- 



OF TUB 



SA.r> C^L-A^MTTY 



AT 



LAWRENCE, MASS. 



T-aesday, Jgni-asiry lO, ISSO. 



BY AN EYE WITNESS. 



BOSTON: 

PRINTED BY CHARLES C. P. MOODY, 
No. 52 Washington Street. 
1860. 



Tn 

.UW23 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1860, by 

ALLEN PEABODY, 

lu the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 



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DESCRIPTIVE POEM. 



Ill Lawrence, busy humming city, 
There late befel a scene of pity, 

A scene uneaqualled in our land. 
An awful scene sublime and grand. 

At twilight's hour at eventide, 

When witches are supposed to ride, 

When twinkling stars begin to fall — 
When darkness settles over all, 

When mill hands sup and then return, 
Where their daily bread they earn, 

Laughing happily and gay, 
Anticipating close of day, — 

The town was lighted up with gas, 
Tne marts were open wide, 

The busy people all engaged, 
For it was eventide. 

No direful news was then abroad — 

No bloody deeds to tell ; 
But all seemed happy, blithe and gay, 

As any marriage bell. 



The busy liumming of the mills 

Came on the evening air, 
And cheerfulness set on the hearts 

Of people every where. 

And in the mills a cheerful scene — 

Maids walking to and fro, 
Machines a whizing all around ; 

The looms upon the go. 

The spinning mules drawing out, 

The bobbins on the whiz ; 
What means this busy active gait, 

Has fabrics lately riz ? 

The overseers flying round, 

The gas is lighting up, 
The people had been flocking in 

From whence they'd been to sup. 

And in the counting-rooms the clerks 

Were silently employed ; 
Made cheery by the nrey stove, 

Its genial warmth enjoyed. 

'Tis Ave o'clock, that fatal hour, 

'Twill long^remembcred be. 
Who could foretell the sad event 

That I'll relate to thee ? 

When, hark ! what sudden sound was tliatt 

Which smote upon the ear, 
O nothing but a gust of wind ! 

Whicli all might plainly hear. 



But hark again ! the sounds increase ! 

It docs pervade the air, 
It verily secmeth overhead, 

It secmeth every where. 

Who ever heard the like before ? 

Sure that is not the wind ; 
It secmeth like the ocean's roar, 

Or something of the kind. 

No 'tis not like the windy gale ; 

Nor like the ocean's roar, 
It sounds like what I never heard, 

No ; never heard before. 

There's something in it terrible, 
Foreboding — startling, wild ! 

To cause the stoutest hearts to quake:, 
As doth a frightened child. 

How was it at the Pemberton ? 
When near a thousand lives 
Were peacefully engaged in toil, 
Those daughters, sons and wiTe#. 

A little while before the sounds 

Began to stir the air : 
All lighting up so cheerfully, 
So happy blithe and fair. 

Those weakened walls began to bondj 

And threaten thus to fall ; 
While unconsciously beneath 

Without a warning call — 



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Those innocent and liar>py souls 

Were busy in their rooms, 
Warping, spinning, carding, 

And some were tending looms. 

Sec ! see ! tliose threatening walls do l)end [ 

How silently — how still ; 
See ! laughing damsels stand beneath, 

how the blood does chill. 

Anon, the crash ! the building falls. 

Bricks and morter fly. 
Crushed in horrid agony, 

A swarm of beings lie. 

Now hear ! Oh God ! the direful cry, 

Chaos sends forth its wail. 
Heart-rending sounds of agony 

Are mingling with the gale. 

Mangled and bruised are manly forms 

Struggling in vain. 
Innocence and beauty too 

Will ne'r see light again. 

Now bloody forms are creeping lortli, 

Mangled — bruised and torn. 
But few escaped without a hurt 

But very few I learn. 

And some were there who might escape, 

But that was not to be ; 
'Twas not sufficient, there must be 

Increased calamity. 



A hole was cut with honest hands, 

Down through a fallen floor, 
With kind intent to rescue such 
As were not killed hefore. 

A lantern then was lowered down 

To light the dismal den. 
To shed its faint and glimmering liirlit 

Among those dying men. 

Lo! there machines of every sort 
\^hich cotton mills contain, 

Lay bruised and broken all about, 
Not fit for use again. 

And human bodies bruised and dead, 
Lay weltering in their gore ; 

Oh ! such a sight was never seen 
In Lawrence town before. 

And others in their dying groans ' 

For succor cry in vain. 
One sought relief by suicide 

To ease his mortal pain. 

Others again who might escape 

Without a single ill, 
Had not an accident took place, 

Which makes our blood run chill. 

A lantern from a nervous hand, 

Fell and broke to smash, 
A spark among the cotton caught^ 

Which caused an instant flash 



8 



This subtle element soon spread 
Beneath those fallen floors, 

That horrid den was filled with shrieks 
More dreadful than before. 

Fire ! fire ! ! sounded forth 

Upon the evening air ; 
The bells repeat the alarming cry, 

Soon all the town was there. 

Thus quickly spread the news abroadj 

And anxious people went 
To save those suffering precious souls 

Was their kind intent. 

The firemen, that faithful band 
Did fight with swelling hearts, 

Eacli ready when his turn came round 
To do a manly part. 

The Mayor and the men of note 

Labored at the brake, 
What glorious examples 

Such worthy men do make. 

The women worked like heroes there. 

Deserving every praise, 
Rescuing friends they dearly loved, 

Impediments to raze. 

And Oliver was everywhere 

That noble hearted man ; 
Clear-headed 'mid the greatest noiso 

Doing all a mortal can. 



But all in vain those firemen 

Played upon the heap, 
Those floors like roofs the water turned, 

The fires raged beneath. 

Three parties found alive and well 

Were heard to speak and pray, 
And would have been rescued by friends, 

Were they not drove away. 

One man took hold of his friend's hand. 

And partly out was drawn ; 
The raging flames drove off his friend 

Who left him thus alone. 

Some made their wills, what should be done 

With all their worldly store ; 
Then bade farewell to their dear friends 

Who never saw them more. 

Two girls, one man, were spoken to, 
Who said they were not harmed, 

When suddenly the girls cried out 
<' Oh God ! we shall be burned." 

A company of little girls 

Hemmed in by all around 
Without the faintest hope of life, 

Hot flames were pouring down — • 

Did sing with clear unbroken voice 

Like martyrs famed in story, 
With voices Heavenly musical, 

" Were going home to glory." 



10 



A[ faith like this is joy indeed, 

A boon to hold in fee ; 
"Worth more to cheer a dying soul 

Than doubtful Infidelity 

The scorching fires raged beneath, 
No rescuing hand could stay, 

The firery billows roaring loud 
Drove all help away. 

And now behold the mouldering mass ; 

All is hushed within. 
Weeping friends stood all around 

Mourning for kith and kin. 

Enough ! Enough of horror now, 

Let me relate no more. 
You now shall hear of some escapes, ] 

Safe, happy and secure. 

One lady I've forgot her name 
With quick and ready mind. 

Looked for a way to save herself I 
Which she did quickly find. . 

Many incidents took place 
Hair breadth escapes and true, 

But such as I have heard relate 
I now will toll to you. 

'Twas when the mill began to fall. 
She sprang into the hoisting gear, 

Slid down five stories in a wink, 
'Twas thus she did get clear. 



11 



A man who saw the bending wall 

Ran quickly to the L, 
And saved himself with fainting breath, 

While the main part fell. 

A Mr. Adams found himself 

Wedged in beneath a beam, 
He heard a footstep overhead 
A man's step it did seem. 

Up through a crevice overhead 

He saw a friend indeed, 
" Go bring a saw from yonder mill 

A saw which I do need ? " 

His friend ran and procured the saw 
Passed in through the crevice down, 

Poor Adams bent it up lilve tin, 
It was insufficient found. 

An axe I an axe ! next Adams cried, 

His cry was not in vain. 
It was wanted with the handle short. 

His liberty to gain. 

A double door with rivets in, 

He could not saw nor hew ; 
But hacked it with his shortened axe,. 

In narrow limits too. 

Successful toil met its reward, 
But desperate was the strife, 

He knew the flames were creeping on, 
But how sweet is life. 



12 



When extricated then he felt 
His strength a failing fast, 

When his fainting fit was o'er, 
«* Thank God ! I'm safe at last." 

Another case I will relate, 

About a little boy 
Not quite a dozen years of age, 

Perhaps his parents' joy ! 

He labored in an upper room, 
The bricks began to fall ; 

He smuggled in a box of waste, 
Came down among them all. 

Far down among the broken mass 

Lay ensconced the boy, 
When the rescuers took him out 

Strait home he scud for joy. 

A little girl ten years of age 
Was found upon her face ; 

Here feet were widely spread apart 
Nor could she change her place. 

An iron mass of thousand pounds 

Lay between her feet, 
A heavy beam across her back 
Did hold her down complete. 

On either side a jammed machine, 

Her arm was in a ring, 
A horizontal pillory 
To keep her body in. 



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Yet strange to say they got her out. 

(So the papers telL) 
Now was not this most wonderful, 

She's now alive and well. 

All Tuesday night the citizens 

Did toil with worthy zest, 
Bescuing bodies from the wreck, 

But few did sleep or rest. 

The hearse was driven to and fro 

Up to the City Hall, 
Conveying dying persons thence 

Beneath its funeral pall. 

The Hall became a hospital. 

The City Hall the same ; 
Where the dead were all conveyed, 

And so were all the lame. 

Some were burned into a crisp, 

A sad and sickening sight ! 
Some with broken legs and arms. 

And others wounded slight. 

One man was found with broken skull, 

A piece gone off his head, 
His brain was found entirely whole — 

Of course the man was dead. 

A girl was found whose head and limbs 

Were burned into a crisp, 
A locket did reveal her name, 

A locket on her breast. 



14 



The Mills have stopt and business is 

Nearly at a stand, 
The coffin-makers were much drove 

To get their wares on hand. 

Bodies sent to distant towns, 

Coffined up with care, 
Labelled to their distant friends 

To find a burial there. 

Charred remains unrecognized, 
Rough boxes did receive, 

Were buried several in a box, 
No friends to mourn and grieve. 

The undertaker night and day, 

And coffin-makers too 
Have had to hurry on their work 

With more than they could do. 

One coffin-maker said he sold 

Of coffins thirty-nine. 
Besides supplies from other where, 

Death's harvest has been fine. 

For days a gang of forty men 
Were kept upon the ground, 

Carefully they picked and dug, 
And many bodies found. 

And Sabbath day still kept at work, 
That gang of earnest men ; 

Deeming it a sacred task 
To be employed then. 



15 



Policemen stationed all about 
To guard with honest care 

The ruins and the charred remains 
Of those still buried there. 

Strangers in vehicles came 

To gaze in silent awe, 
And mutely view destruction's work 

Unequal 'cept in war. 

Selecting fragments of the same 
To show to distant friends (or kin) 

That they may see and then believe 
About the dreadful scene. 

'Twould melt a heart of adamant 

To walk among the slain, 
To look upon the gastly dead 

And hear the groans of pain — 

To see the stricken hearted men 

Who never wept before, 
Kneel beside their children dear 

Upon that bloody floor. 

To see a mother's stooping form, 
Bowed down with grief and woe, 

With frantic anguish o'er her child 
While scalding tears do flow. 

To see a loving sister too 

Beside a sister dead, 
Or cheer a brother's dying form, 

Support that brother's head. **** 



1(3 



Physicians who require no fee. 
Are there to lend their aid, 

Samaritans Hke these you know 
Are paid in gratitude. 

In woman's form the angels were 

Among the souls of grief, 
With heavenly sympathy of heart, 

Affording great relief. 

The lady who slid down the gear 
And saved herself so well, 

Was there all night administering 
With judgment, grace and skill. 

Great praise is due to courage great, 

Such duties to perform ; 
Who never falter when the time — 

To ACT and do comes on. 

Mayor Saunders gave out word 
For all to sign their names 

Who had a friend or were themselves 
Connected with the same. 

Unto the Essex counting house 

The multitude resort. 
Grief written with the pen of fear 

To hear and make report. 

Much information thus was gained 
'Bout those who did escape, 

But how the accident took place 
And those who met their fate — 



17 

I saw it ill an " extra " sheet 

Printed in the town, 
A very lengthy list of names 

From top to bottom down. 

First a list of those found dead, 

Three score names and more. 
Cut and mangled awfully, 

Burnt and jamed and tore. * 

Next the badly injured came 

One hundred — 17, 
Bruised and crippled some for life, 

No sadder sight oft seen. 

Many slightly injured, did 

Escape with little ill ; 
One hundred souls and 69 

Did thus escape the mill. 

A list of " missing" at the foot 

Of this long column stands — 
Most likely charred and burned to death 

Beneath the firy brands. 

^ I might go on and so relate 

Almost in endless rhyme, 
Many untold incidents 

Which happened at the time. 

Another lad was taken out 

Who used the Indian weed. 
When he found himself alive 
Walked off quite cool indeed — 
-*It has since been ascertained that 109 were dead and missing. 



18 



Drew forth his pipe, prepared to smoke 
With perfect nonchalance — 

As though his narrow s'cape with life 
Was but a common chance. 

A Mrs. Luck and daughters four 

A family of five, 
Had a narrow chance for hfe, 
But all got out alive. 

She gathered her four daughters all 

About her in the night, 
Kneeled and fervently she prayed 

And thanked the God of Light. 

They happened to be near a door 
And thus escaped with speed 

Deeming it a lucky chance, 
I think 'twas luck indeed. 

The news was quickly spread abroad 

On telegraphic wire- — 
Strangers came from far and near 

To view this awful fire. 

Pickpockets — thieves and gamblers too, 

Came in to ply their trade, 
Pity a chain gang could not be 
Of reprobates thus made. 

The police should set them all to work 

The rubbish clear away — 
Keep them on a crust of bread 

And whip them every day. 



19 



I'de like to be a looker on 
And see them sweat and toil, 

Such hearties villains onght to get 
Kicks instead of spoil. 

Boston sent policemen on 

I was rejoiced to hear, 
They got a hint " 'twas time to go," 

Which made them disappear. 

A gentle snow in downy flakes 
Spread her mantle white, 

Clothing in spotless purity 
The melancholy site. 

What fitter emblem could be had 
To sooth the hearts desire ? 

The clouds sent down a funeral pall 
To clothe this funeral pyre. 



PART SECOND. 



I went to the city a stranger, to see 
For myself what now I relate unto thee. 
All merriment has ceased, their voices are low, 
Dejected in look, their paces are slow. 
In groups do they stand, 'bout corners and courts 
In undertones speak with solemn discourse — 
They speak of the dead with bosoms of pain — 
To speak in their praise none will refrain. 



^^-m... 



20 



And children look grave who are wont to be gay, 

Their sporting has ceased — they've forgotten their play. 

The dogs keep their kennels, or if they come out 

Go creeping in humble demeanor about. 

One meets on the street with people who are 

In bandages drest and patched up with care, 

And scores of victims confined to their homes 

Groaning with pain — bewailing with moans. 

One lost an eye, or a leg, or an arm, 

'Twas a wonder so many escaped without harm. 

'tis a city of cripples, of mourning and woe, 

Sad hearts and sad faces whereever you go. 

How many will suffer from want and from care, 

Do all that we may — spare all we can spare. 

The company tomb — the home of the dead 

Is crowded with coffins near to the bulk head. 

The snow was kept trodden by mourners who go 

In measured pace both solemn and slow. 

The hearse was kept running for many a day 

Taking burnt bodies in coffins away. 

Enough, enough, I will close the sad theme 

Though terribly true yet it seems like a dream — 

'Tis a time to act, the good and the true 

Will never hold back — I appeal unto you 

When the heart of the miser relaxeth at hold, 

And giveth up alms in pieces of gold ; 

But you buy my Poem, the profit shall go 

To aid the poor people — the victims of woe. 



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